Into the Medical Block, into the lift, into the Coronary Care unit. The Doctor peeled away as the plastic double doors flapped shut in the wake of the wheeled stretcher. The Deputy Governor was at his shoulder.

'I wouldn't go in there if I were you. I mean he's not going to run away, is he? They're going to have their work cut out. He's not going to make a dash for the fire escape.'

The Deputy Governor and Mr Jones fidgeted in mutual discomfort. It went against the grain of their lives to let a prisoner out of sight. They heard through the doorway staccato shouts for jelly; for drip, for ECG. A small stampede of men charged past them and through the door. They heard the whining of a buzzer, the noise of fists beating on flesh.

'Cardiac Arrest team. They're walloping his chest now, trying to beat it back into action… Being who he is I suggest you give the Home Office another bell. That's my lot, good night.'

The Deputy Governor followed the Doctor down the stairs.

Mr Jones was abandoned in the deserted corridor, hands folded across his stomach, skirted by passing nurses and doctors. A bloody shame for old Demyonov, he thought.

Even a bloody Russian would look forward to going home, wouldn't he, even if it meant traipsing back to Moscow?

Funny thing was that he wasn't a bad chap, and they'd miss him at the Scrubs whether he went out in a box or with a one-way airline ticket.

From his tunic pocket Mr Jones took a set of clippers and started to tidy his nails. There would be a few minutes before the storm broke.

He walked from East Acton Underground station through the estate of Council homes, where the walls were daubed with tribal soccer slogans and teenagers fumbled in the entries to the garages with their girl-friends' zippers.

Past the prison with its floodlit walls topped with barbed wire coils, past the twin towers of the gate house, past the surveillance cameras. His hands were deep in his overcoat pockets, and in the rush out of his home he had forgotten the scarf that was a month-old Christmas present. He had been lucky with his connections, had caught the trains quickly.